


Imbibe (aka, Please Drink With Goblins Responsibly)

by Selkie_de_Suzie



Series: Strange Hearts & Wild Things [1]
Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: Drunk Humor, Drunken Flirting, Drunken Shenanigans, Drunkeness, Early In The Relationship, Established Relationship, Goblins Party Hard, Humor, Romance, Romantic Awkwardness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-14
Updated: 2015-03-14
Packaged: 2018-03-17 20:38:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3543020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selkie_de_Suzie/pseuds/Selkie_de_Suzie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marianne tries goblin ale for the first time. The Dark Forest will never be the same again…</p><p>The first part in my planned timeline, "Strange Hearts & Wild Things"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Imbibe (aka, Please Drink With Goblins Responsibly)

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place more than a few weeks after the movie, but still in the early stages of Bog and Marianne's relationship, when they're both adjusting and still getting comfortable with each other. 
> 
> Also, drunken Fairies are an absolute treat to write. I highly suggest that you give it a try!
> 
> EDIT 6/25/2016: For a long time I was dissatisfied with how I skimped on my description of Bog's bedroom, so I went back and (along with doing some teeny tiny edits), I finally gave him the bed chamber I had always envisioned for him and that he so rightfully deserved =)

Marianne used to be a fan of sunrises – they meant getting to work on a new sparring exercise, making her sweat and strain and getting bone-tired satisfaction. But now she only saw sunrises as the start of an increasingly arduous waiting game. 

Lately she had become increasingly fond of sunsets –vivid, gorgeous sunsets low in the sky, painting the flowers and tops of the trees warm rosy hues and casting deep shadows everywhere else. Sunsets signaled the true start of the day for her, and as she now darted her way through the underbrush of the Dark Forest, she felt a small little gush of anticipatory happiness.  _Close, close now, she would almost be there…_

Marianne made a running land into the repaired entrance, looking around the new throne room of the Dark Forest. Apparently rebuilding the Castle hadn’t been as tough as one might have thought – the Dark Forest never lacked for animal skulls or decrepit old stumps. She spun around the chamber, flitting in and out of the shadows, her voice ringing out. “Bog? Hello? I finally got out of the Council meeting, you would not  _believe_  how some of those guys drone on…Bog? Helloooo?”

She squinted into the dimness, but felt, with an increasing sense of deflation, that the person she had been so eager to see most definitely wasn’t here. She let out a gusty sigh and drifted to the ground, running a hand through her hair, the gesture rough with frustration. Lately it seemed like she and Bog were always managing to miss each other – the apparent blossoming romance between the King of the Dark Forest and the Eldest Fairy Princess had sent everyone in each Kingdom, especially her own, into a spin. There were councils, meetings, discussions upon discussions about what this would mean for each Kingdom, how the borders would be affected, if new trading opportunities could be implemented…

Marianne understood the importance, but the Responsible Heir To The Fairy Throne side of her was currently in an intense battle with the I Just Want To See Bog side. She chewed on her lip, once again uncomfortably aware that she had been studiously ignoring the fact that she refused to call him anything other than…Bog.

She had a decent reason – people had been throwing out numerous labels for what she and Bog were, and each one seemed so… _ridiculously_  out of place, out of any realm of comfort for her.  _Partner, Her Intended, Future King and Queen_ …

God, someone -  _Sunny_  - had even once referred to him as her Boyfriend, and Marianne had almost fallen out of the air from laughing so hard. While they didn’t make her skin itch with unpleasantness, those labels nevertheless set her nerves on edge. 

Hence why she was here – her father had made sure to keep her busy during the day in a transparent attempt to keep her as away from the Dark Forest for as much as he could manage, so nighttime was really the only time she could see Bog. See him and have a good spar with him and talk to him and have some of the tension leave her bones…

Knowing it was a struggle for him as well, knowing that she could speak freely with him, it helped, it honestly did… and then there were her continued attempts to get increasingly bolder with him despite his shyness, which yeah, she could definitely say also helped. Actually, the last time she was here had shown some  _seriously_  satisfactory results -  _thank you, wonderfully spacious recovered throne and very empty throne room…_

It seemed like nowadays it was only with him that she could truly relax. Which was wonderful and amazing and great…when they weren’t missing each other entirely…

“LADY MARIANNE!”

She let out a shrill shriek that she was immediately thankful that Bog hadn’t heard and would never be able to use against her, and spun around, her fists already up.

A small crowd of goblins had made their way into the throne room, gazing at her with happy surprise and led by…Thing? Thang? Yes, Thang! God, she really had to start working on learning their names. They seemed to be rolling something big and heavy and slow towards the middle of the room, and each creature either had a cup, a goblet, or a tankard in various states of disrepair clutched in their claws.

Marianne raised a brow but decided to wait and see what was going on. She gave a small smile and little wave to Thang. “Hey there, buddy! I was…I was just looking for -"

“Ah, sadly Sire is away at the moment,” Thang nodded importantly.

“She probably already knows that, lump-head”, another goblin hissed…Stuff? Was that his…her…their name?

“Yeah, I did kind of figure that out earlier.” Marianne gave a small grimace and tucked her hands behind her back, surprised that she was disappointed at the confirmation. She shouldn’t be, she knew he was busy, he had a kingdom to run…

“But he shan’t be too long now, m’lady,” Thang continued cheerfully, and Marianne felt her spirits lift. “He’s merely checking with some scouts on the borders, and then he will be soon to return. Will you be staying?”

She grinned, knowing she was being ridiculously sappy, but she was too pleased to really care. “Yes, yes I will. Is there a way we can let Bog – um, your King know that I’m here?”  _Because she knows he misses her too, and it’s been a while, and if there’s anything to be done to get him back to her more quickly…_

“We’ll use the mushrooms!” Stuff promised and thumbed at a beetle like creature, who sped out of the room. Though Marianne remembered a few incidences where there had been less than clear results from that messaging service, she was happy regardless and let herself drift closer to the group, her curiousness at the large rolling object starting to get to her.

“What’s that you got there, Thang?”

“We are celebrating, m’lady! It’s Snuff’s third anniversary, as well as our annual day off of general duties. It’s tradition for us to bring out some of our ale!”

Marianne looked at the tiny little goblin, who looked like a cross between a mouse and a lizard, perched on top of the barrel who she gathered to be Snuff. “Well, happy anniversary, Snuff,” she said, throwing a little salute his way. He nodded back cheerfully and gave a little squeak of a hiccup before toppling of off the barrel. Marianne stared.

“Snuff has been celebrating quite a bit already, Lady Marianne,” Stuff grumbled to her, and the rest of the goblins cackled in agreement and approval.

One toad-like creature held out his tankard to her. “Would you like to join us, Future Queen?”

Marianne felt herself flush.  _Man, even here!_  She forced a smile on her face. “Ahhh, guys, you’re sweet, but I think I’ll just go to another room and wait, I don’t wanna, uh, crash Snuff’s party –"

“Nonsense, your highness! Snuff would be honored!” Thang protested. Snuff gave a honking snore from his place on the floor.

“We all would!” chimed in a mottled green creature, and the rest of the goblins chimed in with their agreements.

Before Marianne could beg off –  _was this prior arrangement of theirs? Get their Future Queen drunk? – Dammit, now she was doing it -_  the barrel was already being righted and opened up with a mighty crack.  A wave of nut-brown, foamy liquid burst over the rim and splashed to the floor, where some goblins eagerly lapped it up, getting a fair amount of grime as well. The toad-like creature scooped his tankard into the barrel to fill it, and then pushed it into Marianne’s hands.

She stared at the tankard uncertainly, her slight unease not helped by the mural of mold growing on the side of it. “Is it…safe?”

“Of course, your highness! Rest assured, the Bog King drinks it as well.”

Well, if Bog drank it…and she had wanted to get more in-depth experiences with goblin culture. Besides, she still felt a bit tense after all the endless talk between the council and her father, where she had been present but mostly ignored.  _Aw, what the hell._  She squared her shoulders and tipped the tankard in a jaunty toast, accidently sloshing some ale onto on the goblins clustered beneath her. “Oops, sorry,” she grimaced, and then gave a brave grin. “Bottom’s up!”

The goblins cheered as she took her first gulp – well, okay, more of a sip, but it was better to be cautious. She felt the liquid glide over her tongue, and was shocked at how cold it was at first, before –

” _ **OHHH!**  Oh holy_ –" any further words were lost to a violent bout of coughing, and she bent over, her eyes watering fiercely. When she finally got in a breath, her lungs and throat burning fiercely, the goblins were silent and blinking owlishly at her, waiting for her verdict.

“’S…potent,” she managed to get out, and the crowd of creatures broke into happy, snaggle-toothed grins.

Trying to get some control over herself, she straightened up, and was truly surprised to find that despite the initial punch of the drink, it wasn’t altogether bad – the icy coldness had turned hot and heavy as it slid down her throat, and it had a musky, rich flavor that seriously intrigued her. It tasted like the way moss smelled after rain, or…

“Another, m’lady? “

Marianne blinked out of her musings and looked at Stuff, who was holding out a badly misshapen goblet, which nonetheless seemed to hold a copious amount of ale.

She could already feel a slight thrum in her blood, which she decided she liked quite a bit, and grinned at the crowd before snatching the goblet and giving a mighty toast. “ANOTHER!”

The goblins whooped raucously, delighted by her boldness and eager to cheer her on.

 

* * *

 

It was later agreed, after the King returned, that they  _really_  should have known better.

* * *

 

It was further into the night when Bog finally arrived, and by then Marianne had decided she LOVED goblin ale, oh yes  _oh yes_  she did. She was feeling pretty damn affectionate about everything right now.

She had spent the night in a growing haze of a blurry and grandiose love that she had been proclaiming for a while now to Stuff and Thang and Brutus and Bloodwart and Grub and Fleasley and…and…and all the other goblins whose names she was finally learning and it was  _amazing_ , she felt  _amazing_ , and she never wanted to leave her new friends ever again,  _ever_. She giggled into her cup, flushed and happy and teetering on the edge of Bog’s throne, which she had decided was the perfect place to tell everyone she liked them an awful lot and she liked their ale even more.

She was already leaning pretty far off of the throne’s armrest when a chorus of “BK!” and “Sire!” made her jump in surprise. She tilted off the throne before swiftly and sloppily righting herself, her head buzzing at the sudden motion before she caught sight of Bog and Griselda making their way into the room, and her face lit up with a happy grin. Bog! And Griselda! They were here and so was she! Awesome!

“BOG!” She shouted happily over the goblins clamor, and she pushed herself happily off the throne and waved at the whole room, her arms feeling heavy for some reason, but she had to let them know the good news. “GUYS, BOG IS HERE!”

She managed to only stumble just the tiniest bit before launching herself at him, where he caught her quickly, and oh wow, did it feel  _so_  amazing to be in his arms again.

“Marianne!” Bog seemed surprised but obviously pleased to see her. “I knew the mushrooms were tryin’ to tell me something– how long have you been here?”

Marianne grinned at him, so happy to see him, so happy about it all. “BOG!” She shouted at him, and huh, why did he flinch like that? “BOG, YOU’RE HERE!”

“Yes, yes, I am, no need to shout, Tough Girl –"

“But you’re here! And I’m here!  _Finally_!” Marianne felt as though her face, which had been getting warmer and warmer as the night went on, was about to split from smiling. And her head was still getting a bit fuzzy. Shaking her head and ignoring Bog’s growing look of confusion, Marianne caught sight of Griselda and gasped loudly. “GRISELDA! YOU’RE HERE! AND BOG’S HERE!” 

Griselda laughed, seeming just as happy as her at Bog’s arrival. Or maybe she had seen the ale barrel. Which Marianne could totally understand, the ale barrel was awesome ‘cause it was full of  _ale_. “Yes he is, honey – betcha missed him bunches, didn’t ya?”

“Missed him  _so much_ ,” Marianne nodded her head in strong agreement, and oh  _man_ , did that do funky things to the room. She buried her head in the crook of Bog’s neck, both out of a need to stop her head from swimming and to breathe him in, let him know just how much she had missed him. “Missed you, missed you missed you misshhhed you –" she continued, a bit of a slur creeping into her voice.

She felt Bog shift beneath her. “Marianne, have…have you been drinking?”

“Missed you – YES! I’VE BEEN DRINKING AND THE GOBLINS HELPED!” She grinned at him, utterly delighted that he understood. She felt a warm glow of happiness at the sight of his face, mouth in a confused grimace, eyes getting an uneasy glint to them…oh, his gorgeous blue eyes, she loved his eyes, she had missed them the most…

She sighed dreamily and reached up a hand, petting his cheek. Well, she had meant to pet his cheek; she ended up sort of smacking his forehead a bit. “Missed you so much, Bog…” she murmured earnestly up at him, and his gaze grew soft.

“I’ve missed you too, Marianne,” he murmured back, tucking a stray piece of her hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering. Marianne let out a happy sigh at the sensation and leaned back into his chest, snuggling unabashedly as she felt an arm go around her. She closed her eyes, happy for the temporary darkness as her heart and head thrummed. She opened one up, peeking to see if anyone was watching, and saw Stuff and Thang coming to their King, while some other goblins had taken to doing what looked like handstands over the barrel. She grinned delightedly. Stuff and Thang! They had to know the good news!

“GUYS, BOG IS HERE! AND HE MISSED ME!”

Bog groaned. “I had no idea fairy wine had such an affect on you–"

"Nu-uh, no no no no, not fairy wine! Got shome ale! Ale is amazing, Bog, ish sho…sho amzshing…” Her head was swimming, the room was spinning, and Bog was…

It was hard to tell, what with his complexion, but Marianne could have sworn that Bog went a bit pale.

“What? You’re drinking ale? Marianne, did…did you have Goblin Ale?”

“Yup!” She beamed up at him, proud that he had guessed so quickly.

“Ooooh dear,” she heard Griselda mutter, and Marianne could hardly blame her, because Bog was getting his  _I Swear I’m About To Make Someone’s Middle Name Misery_  expression, and that never boded well. He turned with a sharp jerk to his subjects, and Marianne followed along, still clutched to his chest and head now throbbing all over again. Ouch.

“You _imbeciles_ ,” Bog’s voice was a snarl that made the goblins cringe and sent goose bumps down her spine.  _Oooh, maybe she could work on making him growl later._  “You served her  _your_  ale? She’s a Fairy! She’s only ever had Fairy Wine!”

Marianne pushed away from Bog and swatted at him, or tried to. “Hey, I drink at parties all the time, Almighty Bog King, I can handle my drink.” The clarity and enunciation of the statement was impressive, but her knees suddenly giving out kind of ruined the impact of her words. Bog quickly snatched her back to his chest, and she gave a small grunt at the manhandling. “Besides, they…they shai-said that you drink the ale all the time!”

“Yes, I drink from _my_  own storage of ale,” Bog said with obviously forced patience. “This barrel is  _their_  ale. They also use it to clean the floors.”  

Marianne blinked up at him, feeling a bit lost.  _That was bad?_

Bog tilted her chin up, peering into her eyes, obviously checking for any obvious damage. “Marianne, how many drinks have you had?”

Marianne was pleased that she could give him a precise answer. “ _Lots_.”

Griselda gave a poorly concealed snort and Bog let out an impatient sigh. “Yes, I bet you have, but what number did you get to?”

Marianne sighed back at him, annoyed, and wiggled a hand. “Like…sheven?”

 _“Seven?!”_  One of Bog’s eyes gave a twitch.

The goblins started to back away from them as subtly as they could.

“Think so…” Marianne muttered, not sure if the pain in her stomach was unease or the ale. She sighed, not wanting to lose her happy, blurry feeling. “Bo-og, I’m fine! I wanted to drink the ale.” She frowned stormily at him, and then brightened. “And I loved it!  _I love the ale!”_  She threw her arms up, and Bog narrowly avoided getting whacked in the face from her enthusiasm. “I love it, Bog!” She turned to the goblins. “CHEERS TO ALE!”

“CHEERS TO ALE!” They yelled back.

“SILENCE!” Bog roared.

The goblins shut up.

Marianne ignored him and turned to Griselda, who had gotten a goblet of her own and was nursing some of the ale. “ Gris…Grishelda, why is it a big deal? I wanna drink the ale and I wanna relax and I wanna shee…see Bog.”

“Of course you wanted to relax, my tipsy little tansy-flower,” Griselda slurped down some ale, and both ladies chose to ignore Bog’s frustrated groan. “Rough day?”

“Rough!” Marianne exclaimed, rolling her eyes at the both of them. “ _Councils._  All day. So much talking! An’ no one wants to hear what I shay! All about wedding plans and -”

“ _Wedding plans?”_  Griselda squealed, and Bog looked like he suddenly wanted to have some ale now too.

“Possssh…possible wedding plans,” Marianne elaborated. “Big deal, ‘pparently.” 

Bog pinched the bridge of his nose and Griselda beamed at the two of them. “You two lovebirds know that I can always help if there’s –"

“Mother, that’s not something we need to worry about now,” Bog muttered fiercely, a flush tipping his ears. “Right now, we need to find someplace quiet and dark for Mari-  _Marianne, what are you doing?!”_

Marianne had grabbed onto his shoulders and was currently hiking one of her legs around his waist.

“Jush…jush need to see if I can do thish,” she muttered. “Need to see if I can climb you.” She gave a little hop and cursed. “Why are you so  _tall_ , Bog?”

“Get’s it from his father,” Griselda offered while Bog attempted to delicately pry Marianne’s leg out of its death grip on his waist, looking like he was going to burst into flames from how hotly he was flushing.

Marianne nodded at this information, and then went back to her mission to climb the Bog King of the Dark Forest like a tree. One leg was up and accounted for, both arms locked around his neck, but the other was dangling now and giving little futile kicks to join the others company. His face, though wearing an expression of discomfort, was right near hers and  _ohhhhh_ , she could look right into his eyes…

“Bog?” She murmured dreamily, marveling over the sheer blueness of them as he looked at her with some degree of exasperation.

“Yes?” He answered warily.

Bog was such a wonderful name. “Bog Bog Bog Bog –"

_“What?”_

“Your eyes.” She tapped his nose, and he leaned back.

“Aye, Marianne, what about them?”

“ _Love them_ ,” she declared, and grinned when he ducked his head down, the flush coming back to his cheeks, but a small, pleased smile on his face. She stroked his shoulder and cuddled as close as she could get to him. She pushed her mouth to his ear and loudly whispered into it. “Love you.”

She felt him go still as Griselda gave a loud “ _Awwww!”_  of happy approval.

Marianne then leaned back – way back, way  _way_  back, Bog quickly tried to keep her from falling – and gave a grin to Griselda. “Love you too, Grishelda!”

“Oh Marianne, my sloshed sweetheart, I love you bunches too –"

“Mother, don’t encourage –"

“LOVE YOU GUYS!” Marianne waved both hands at the goblins, faintly aware in some part of her booze soaked mind that that action wasn’t the smartest thing to do while dangling upside down while Bog tried to support her. “LOVE THISH ALE!”

She could have sworn that she heard Bog mutter something along the lines of “Not in the morning you won’t,” but before she knew what was happening, she was being hoisted up and tossed – well, gently settled – over a scaly shoulder. Bog quickly turned to go, and Marianne was left to wave farewell to the goblins as they started to depart.

“She is _not_  to be disturbed at all while she sleeps this off. Don’t think I won’t return to deal with you cretins before the night is through,” Bog shot over his shoulder, menace heavy in his voice. His subjects looked suitably terrified.

It was a shame that at that moment Marianne, wearing a sloppy and decidedly lecherous grin, decided to make an escape attempt by distracting Bog.

Distracting him in a way that was extremely easy from her current position.

The goblins had begun to glumly roll away the ale barrel when they heard what suspiciously sounded like a yelp from their King.

Which was quickly followed by a bout of drunken laughter from his Lady.

Griselda finished off her goblet and grinned. “I  _like_  that girl.”

* * *

 

Marianne groggily blinked her eyes, and immediately regretted the tiny action as a sharp flare of pain shot through her. Groaning miserably, she slowly reached one hesitant hand to her forehead, and hissed. Her whole head felt like it was cracking open. She was laying on something spongy and cool and incredibly soft, but any comfort that gave her was severely diminished by how her head throbbed just then.

“Ah, the beast awakens.”

 _Oh, dammit_. Repressing a moan of agony, Marianne carefully rolled herself onto her side and slowly opened her eyes in a pained squint.

Bog was sitting in an alcove, setting down some pieces of parchment he had obviously been pouring over while waiting for her to wake up. Whether he had been waiting to scold her or care for her, Marianne wasn’t sure. As another nauseous wave rocked her body, she curled into a ball and hoped with miserable ferocity that it was to care for her.

“I take it,” Bog noted somewhat dryly, “that you’re not enjoying the after affects of the ale.”

“Goblin ale,” gasped Marianne, and oh, it hurt to talk, her tongue felt like it was coated in tar and mud and sand. “Oh man, never again. Kill me before another drop crosses my lips. Royal decree.”

Bog gave a snort. “Duly noted, your highness.”

Marianne closed her eyes and gave another shaky groan as the pounding in her head reached a particularly vicious note. “Actually, kill me now. Dawn can rule instead, Father will understand.”

She heard him move closer, and felt the spongy substance she was draped over dip slightly before she was gently held up in a comfortable, one armed grip. She felt a small beaker press against her lips. “Here, this should help.”

She moaned miserably as her stomach recoiled at the thought of any more food or drink. She tried to lean away “Don’t wanna –"

“Don’t be such an infant, Marianne. Drink it, it will help with your head.” Feeling the beaker press insistently against her lips, she pathetically surrendered and gulped whatever liquid was in there down. It was salty and thick and tangy on her tongue, and she gave a little gag.

Bog gave a sigh edged with exasperated amusement. “Oh, of course she doesn’t like this, but goblin ale went down as easy as you please –"

“Goblin ale has a better taste than this,” Marianne groused, wishing she could scrape the slimy liquid off of her tongue but even as it slid down to her guts, she felt a small sense of relief begin behind her skull. She gave a cautious blink and was relieved to find that the light of the room, as dim as it was, didn’t pierce as badly as it first had.

She yawned – which thankfully didn’t send a fresh wave of pain through her head – and looked at Bog questioningly. “Is it still night?”

“Nearly dawn,” he answered, peering into her eyes and looking satisfied by what he saw there. “You managed to get in some decent hours of sleep. You snore like a bullfrog, has anyone ever told you?”

She maturely decided not to stick her tongue out at him and settled for rolling her eyes. “Dawn might have mentioned it at one point, when we still shared a room.” She pushed herself up fully and grimaced when she looked out the alcoves window, the sky indeed getting lighter though still dappled with stars. “I really don’t feel like attempting flying right now…and Dad would probably still smell that stuff all over me. I’ve already had my fill of lectures for this week.”

“Goblin ale is made from distilled underground fungus,” Bog explained with a certain dryness. “A far cry from the berries and blooms you fairies use in your drinks. It’s far more potent, and the fumes will hang around you for near a week.”   

Marianne groaned. “I was drinking glorified fungus juice? Uuugh, it was such a beautiful lie…” She thought some more when something else hit her. “Wait – you said that the goblins used it to clean the floors?”

Bog gave a serious nod, though she had deep suspicions that he would of dearly liked to laugh right then. “Indeed.”

“So I was swigging floor polish last night,” she grumbled, letting herself fall back and sprawl across the spongy thing. “Great. Wait, you polish the floors here?  _Seriously_  could not tell that.”

Bog did give a bark of laughter at that. “Believe you me, you would know if we stopped polishing the floors.”

She gave another groan, before rolling onto her stomach and feeling the cushy thing beneath her tickle at her skin. “I like this, by the way,” she said, gesturing to the cool spread of green she lay on. “It’s seriously soft, what is it?”

“Moss, nothing more. It’s what most goblins use for bedding.”

Marianne raised an eyebrow, intrigued. Thankfully her headache had faded enough that the gesture didn’t cost her any discomfort. “This is a bed. Huh. It sure beats mine at home.” Fairies usually selected most of their furniture based on how it would look rather than how it would feel, and Marianne’s rose bed, though beautiful and smelling utterly divine, had nothing on the cushy greenness this had. “Who do I have to apologize to for stealing their sleeping space?”

Bog gave a small cough and looked away, suddenly a bit ill at ease. “Well, actually…it’s mine. I felt that you wouldn’t be as likely to be disturbed if you were resting in my chambers.”

Marianne felt her heart give a weird little lurch at his words, and quickly looked around the room. It was quite big, now that she was looking at it properly, and surprisingly lacking in any embellishments like the royal chambers she was used to. 

It was…quite nice, actually. Carved out, curving walls spattered with mossy splotches and funguses arched into a cavernous ceiling, hanging moss drifting down raggedly. The room had not one but two alcoves, one on each side, obviously used for studies what with the desks they contained, coiling roots and hewn wood coming together to form them. Their enormous shelves contained vast quantities of scrolls and texts, and Marianne imagined that the deep window seats each alcove boasted was the perfect place to curl up and read. Twiggy little branches jutted from the wall from which dangled little amber paned lanterns, unlit at the moment but promising a soft, golden glow. Sharp, thorny corners and thick, tough curling vines and roots were plentiful, but Marianne found it cozy and comfortable, blessedly shadowy and secluded. 

She noticed that the bed she was on dominated most of the room. The sprawling stretch of mossy softness was deep and nestlike, the soft mound of moss dipping down in the middle like curve of a bowl, making Marianne feel rather like a hatchling, comfortably swathed in the mossy blankets. Upon further inspection, the base of the bed was formed from an intwined mass of roots, curling and coiling around the plush moss so that the bed rose from the floor like a natural growth. The headboard was a tall and jagged piece of bark, and Marianne was amused to see the odd claw mark scratching across it. Guess Bog had to keep his claws controlled somehow…

_So you’re just going to keep on ignoring that this is your first time in his bed?_

She felt another lurch at the thought, and saw from the corner of her eyes that Bog was attempting to look at her expression as discreetly as he could, which of course made it all the more obvious.  _Oh god, he was trying to gauge her reaction_. She cleared her throat loudly and he flinched a bit.

“So,” she said, flinching herself at how loud her voice sounded. “I remember running away from you to get back to the goblins when you tried to carry me out –"

“- An action that I don’t believe I’ll ever attempt again –"

“Oh hush, I didn’t hurt you. So, I made a break for freedom and then…I got nothing. Total blank. Did I pass out then?”

Bog let out a cackle at that. “Oh no, not you, Tough Girl. You still had to party with everyone.”

Marianne knew that she was expected to ask, but that laugh made her pretty positive she didn’t want to hear the answer. “…So I didn’t pass out then?”

“No, first you challenged Brutus to an arm wrestling match, then you made Stuff dance with you, then tried to climb up my throne when flying up there didn’t work.” Bog crossed his arms and settled himself more comfortably upon the bed, obviously enjoying himself, and Marianne groaned as she felt a new headache beginning, this one most definitely not from any drink.  “You then resisted me the entire time I was dragging you down the halls to go to bed, collapsed on my bed, then sat up and told me you could see time.”

Marianne stared at him.

“And  _then_  you passed out,” Bog finished, smirking at her and oh god, he was going to be so smug about this. 

Marianne let her head drop into her hands. “You’re never going to let that go, are you? That’s going to become a thing now, I can just see it –  _‘Hey Marianne, can you tell me what time it is, since, you know, you can see it and all-‘_  “

“Well, now that you’ve mentioned it…” Bog’s smile was way too sly for her liking, and she threw a piece of moss at him to knock it off his stupid face. He merely laughed and she groaned again before laying down. It was one thing to be a sloppy drinker; it was entirely unfair to have Bog witness it. She buried her face in her arms before peeking out at him.

“So I finally passed out after that? Please tell me that was the end.”

She saw his smile fade a bit and he paused before answering. “That…that was majority of your antics, yes.”

She leaned up on her elbows, pursing her lips. There had been enough hesitation there that made her positive he wasn’t being entirely truthful. “The majority?”

“Yes, the majority.”

“So…I  _did_  do something else?”

“Uh…”

 _“Bog.”_  There was a definite warning to her voice, and he shifted uncomfortably.

“You…” He sighed, obviously wishing he didn’t have to talk about it, but continued anyway. “You became quite…um, _affectionate_  when we arrived here, and…uh…”

Marianne felt her gut twist into a knot. “…Oh.”

Bog gave a short little nod, avoiding her eyes. “Yes.”

Marianne felt her body become suffused in a blush that she was sure matched Bog’s, and she hesitated before asking as delicately as she could. “Did…did anything…?”

“No! No, nothing, uh, nothing happened,” Bog hastily assured her, but he began to wring his hands bit, his long fingers clacking together. “No need to worry, I was immune to your attempts.”

The deep flush in his ears told a different story about the effectiveness of said immunity, but Marianne held her tongue. She felt awful – even with their growing comfort with one another, he was still so shy sometimes, and last night…oh god, had she ruined everything?

He continued, his voice softer. “It wouldn’t have been right.”

Marianne’s mind flashed back to all the bragging and boasts she had heard in the past from fairy youth about drunken affairs and the ease of seducing tipsy fairy girls, and she felt a deep rush of gratitude and affection for him. 

She relaxed and gave a relieved smile. “Thank goodness.”

Immediately Bog’s shoulders hunched, and the look on his face turned withdrawn, and she quickly realized how her words came out. “No! Oh Bog, no no no, I didn’t mean it like that –“

“It’s alright-“, he muttered.

“Nu-uh, don’t you start with that, Almighty Bog King.” Cursing herself for a complete and utter idiot, she scooched towards him on the bed and placed a finger under his chin and tilted his face toward hers. His eyes had a wary glint to them, and she felt her heart give a miserable little twist for putting that there. “Bog…I’m glad nothing happened, because…” Okay, this was going to be hard. She took a deep breath and pushed on, “because when it happens” –  _when, not if_  – “I…I want to be able to remember it.”

It took everything,  _everything_  for her to say that, but Bog’s shoulders relaxed and the look in his eyes made any embarrassment worth it.

“You mean that?” he murmured, the raw vulnerability and hope in his eyes almost painful to see. Her heart gave another twist.

“With all my heart,” she murmured back, reaching up a hand and cradling his cheek, feeling the rough texture of it bite gently into her palm and sometimes it really does scare her, how exposed she becomes when she’s around him, but it’s worth it, worth everything.

His eyes lowered, and the hint of a smile crept onto his lips, and Marianne felt one begin on hers. Not lifting her hand, she glanced toward the window and gave an annoyed groan at the steadily lightening sky. “I need to get going if I don’t want Dad to know I was out…”

“Of course,” Bog quickly agreed, and he stood up and offered a hand to her. “You best be off.”

She let herself get pulled up, but let out a disgusted curse when the room still swam somewhat around her. “Ugh, flying there is going to be a real blast.”

Bog rubbed the back of his neck uneasily. “Maybe stay for few more minutes?”

She was about to reply when she saw his expression. Reluctant acceptance, disappointed resignation…what with her antics last night, they hadn’t really been able to enjoy each other’s company. With sudden clarity, Marianne reached a decision.

“Or…I could just stay here for the day,” she offered, and Bog’s head shot up, his eyes wide.

“ _Stay?_  Do you really -,” he caught himself and continued on with, studiously keeping any excitement out of his voice. “Won’t your father be displeased?”

Marianne snorted. “Dad had me in five Council meetings yesterday, Bog.  _Five._  If that doesn’t earn me a break, I don’t know what will.”

Bog’s face twisted in disgust. “Five? That’s hideous. Three should be the maximum amount.”

“I was going to say two per day, but you get my point,” she said, and let herself meander back to his bed, flopping down and oh man, this was  _seriously_  quality stuff.

His chuckle was warm and she grinned, before rolling onto her side and pointing at the papers he had been looking at before. “I nap, you read. Then we get to hang out.”

“If her majesty commands,” he said agreeably, and huh, her deciding to stay must have really put him in a good mood, he usually made some attempt at fighting her bossiness. “I’ll have one of the goblins send word to your father.”

“Better have it sent to Dawn. She can break the news to him gently.” She sighed happily and closed her eyes, before she heard him clear his throat hesitantly. “Um, Marianne?”

She cracked an eye open at him. “Yes?”

“You…last night, that is…” Bog avoided looking at her. “You said some things last night, and…uh, I was just wondering…”

Marianne’s forehead creased in confusion before her eyes shot wide open as she remembered.  _Oh hell, of course she would tell him that when she was wasted!_

“Yes…?” she cautiously ventured, and she saw him flinch a bit before answering. 

“I was just…wondering if you…that is…” he sighed, clearly annoyed at his inability to actually say what he was wondering, and even as she burned with embarrassment, Marianne’s heart went out to him. They were both frankly terrible at talking about their… _feelings_  for each other. They didn’t really need to talk about how they felt; it was more that they simply knew. Their way of communication was through gestures, actions, a small exchange smiles and easy touches, mutual rolling of eyes at Griselda’s enthusiasm and the shared burn of sparring together. They didn’t really talk about it.

Okay,  _sometimes_ they sang it, but that was something entirely different.

But this…Marianne knew what he was trying to get at, and she had to be a big girl-  _Tough Girl_  – about it and be as honest with him as she could be.

“Well…” she said slowly, hesitantly glancing at him, noting the stiffness in his shoulders. “I’ve been told multiple times that I’m a brutally honest drunk. Like, Dawn’s pretty sure that wars have almost been started over what I say at parties when –“  _Okay, getting off track._  “Uh, so, anyway…If I said a…a certain thing to you last night…” She looked at him, and bit her lip at how obviously he was trying not to look at her, torn between laughter and trepidation.

She took a deep breath and continued, her voice quiet but sure. “If I said it…I’m pretty sure that I meant it.”  _Mean it. Of course I mean it, you dork._

She chanced another look at him, and oh man, her heart had must have decided today would be the day it did twisty little things to her because the look he gave her…oh god, he had no idea what he did to her sometimes. She gave him a small, shy smile and felt her breath catch as the look in his eyes softened to something she was almost scared to say bordered on adoration.

She looked away, feeling overwhelmed. “Okay, nap time for princesses, reading time for kings.”  She pulled a mossy blanket to her and curled up, relishing the softness and already feeling drowsy.  _One day, Bog’s Bed, one day I’ll get to know you more in a hopefully different way…_

She glanced up at the sky, noting the pale golden light of sunrise that somehow broke through the Dark Forest. “Don’t let me sleep too late, okay? I don’t wanna miss anything…”

“Rest assured, I’ll keep on eye the time.” She snuggled happily into the moss, deeply content and eager for some rest after all the wildness from last night and the soul baring that had just happened. It looked like it was going to be a pretty good day. Maybe she should do more sunrises with him…

Then she heard him mutter to himself, “Though as you are the one who can  _see_  it…”

She shot up. “ _Dammit_ , Bog!”


End file.
